This is How it Goes
by just-grey
Summary: Everything is fine, and everything is great.    Until one day, it isn't.    Future!Glee, established relationship.


Everything is fine, and everything is great.

Until one day, it isn't.

She comes home to their apartment to find he's not there, which is odd in itself, yet his papers and sketches are scattered across the coffee table(and didn't she tell him last night to clean that up?).

So she sighs and forces herself to ignore the mess, pulls out her phone to yell at him some, tell him to get his ass home, she has news.

When he doesn't pick up on the third try, she gets pissed; grabs her keys and jacket, heads out to "his spot". As she emerges on the roof, she shudders and crosses her arms, opens her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, but can't because he's simply not there.

And now, she's not angry, not annoyed, now she is worried.

So she calls Quinn to see if he's there with her or Mike, hangs up without a goodbye when she doesn't get a yes. Calls Kurt; talks to Blaine, hangs up.

Breathes deeply, calls his boss, his friend Jim, calls his favorite restaurant even.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

So she heads back down to the apartment, hoping he'll be there when she walks in the door, disappointed when he isn't.

She's not surprised when Quinn and Mike come knocking at her door, and then, ten minutes later, Kurt and Blaine.

So she explains, and they listen with worried faces.

Blaine and Mike go searching at Sam's favorite places, call everyone else they know. Kurt calls Rachel, then searches around the apartment for any clues (raises an eyebrow at the mess, doesn't say anything).

Quinn sits Mercedes down, hands her a cup of tea, slips out of the apartment to call her friend tracy at the hospital; sighs deeply as she re-enters the room.

"'Cedes, we need to go, sweetie."

And Mercedes nods, doesn't even ask where, puts her brave face on.

Quinn holds her hand on the drive, while Kurt calls Blaine and Mike. When they arrive, Tracy is waiting outside, leads them inside. Mercedes grips Quinn's hand tightly as she listens to Tracy speak.

"We would have called you sooner, but the robbers took everyone's wallets, and so far he's been a John Doe. He should be cleared within the hour; the bullet didn't do any permanent damage, but we just want to be sure everything is fine."

Mercedes nods, a bit dazed, almost jumps when Tracy puts a hand on her shoulder.

"Your husband saved a little girls life Mrs. Evans. Those criminals were pretty ruthless, and from what I heard, not in the clearest of minds. He's a very brave man."

A tear escapes, and she nods as Tracy leaves, almost laughs because yes of course he is, and wow, she needs to sit, _now_. So she tells Quinn as much, in a shaky voice, closes her eyes as Quinn sits her down gently; rubs her back, whispers reassurances into her ear, holds her close, until finally, finally, Tracy comes back and leads Mercedes to a small room.

And there he is, and she's so happy to see him, but it's not right because he shouldn't be here to begin with.

When he notices her, he lets out a shaky breath.

"Mercy."

And she chokes on a sob, walks toward him on shaky legs. He moves toward her with a grimace, reaches for her with his good arm. She breathes him in, but it isn't right – he smells too much of hospital and blood, of something foreign, metal-like.

"I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry. Hey, I'm right here I'm okay. I love you."

And she nods, smiles, kisses him and runs her fingers through his hair.

"I thought I lost you. God, and you wouldn't have…Sam, you can't. I need you, and what if it was worse?"

She shakes her head, tries to erase the thought as he tries to tell her that no, it's okay, and he'll never leave her, he loves her so much.

Mercedes laughs, because she knows all of this, and she feels like telling him, even though they're in a hospital and this isn't how she planned but…

"I'm pregnant," she whispers it into his ear anyway.

And when he pulls back, smiling at her; she knows he needed to hear it, needed something good and right.

They walk out of the hospital an hour later, their friends at their heels.

Their arms are around each others waists; Mercedes has a finger crooked in his belt, and Sam's hand keeps inching toward her belly with a smile.

"What was her name?" She asks softly.

He frowns, confused for a moment, then gives a quick grin, tells her, "Dominique,".

Mercedes smiles wide, places her hand atop his, which has once again reached her stomach.

"That's pretty."

He nods, kisses her.

Everything is fine, and everything is great.

Until one day, nine months later, on a Sunday, it's so much better.


End file.
